


sharper

by kiyala



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Kink Discovery, M/M, Messy, Sweat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 23:10:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Enjolras has a thing for sweaty Grantaire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sharper

Grantaire returns from his fencing tournament in the late afternoon and he's grateful to be back home. He hasn't had the time to shower, he'd barely had the time to change out of his fencing gear and into his jeans and t-shirt before he had to run to catch the train, if he had any hope of getting home at a reasonable time. 

Most of the time, he wouldn't mind hanging out with the rest of the team, even if it means getting back home late at night. This is different. This time, he's desperate to get home, already digging through his messenger bag for his keys while he leans his fencing bag against the wall, not even wanting to slow down as he reaches his door. He unlocks it, his heart pounding, twists the knob, pushes the door open, and—

"Honey, I'm home." He says it in a light, mocking tone, even though he isn't quite sure who he's mocking. Probably himself, for getting his hopes up.

"How did you go?" Enjolras is sitting on the couch with a book in his lap. Just as he'd promised. 

"Won." Grantaire manages to get all his elation across in the single syllable. "I mean, it was just the regionals and the other teams weren't that hard, it's going to get worse from here and—"

Grantaire stops talking when Enjolras crosses the room and kisses him firmly.

"I'm sorry," Enjolras murmurs, pressing another kiss to the corner of Grantaire's mouth. "I _do_ want to hear all about today but I really, really want to take you to bed first."

"Fuck." Grantaire settles his hands on Enjolras' sides. "Yeah. Been thinking about it all the way home."

Enjolras kisses him again, runs his fingers through Grantaire's sweat-damp curls and sucks on his lower lip, then bites down gently. Grantaire kisses back like he's still at the competition, using all the precision and finesse he has. He doesn't know how they get from the middle of the room to leaning against the wall, Enjolras gasping as Grantaire sucks on the juncture of his throat and scrapes his teeth over Enjolras' Adam's apple. All he knows is that they're both hard, mostly naked, and Enjolras is mumbling incoherently about their bed.

Their bed. Their apartment. _Their_ fantastic sex life. Grantaire doesn't think he's ever going to stop grinning when he hears it. He grabs Enjolras by the hips and half walks, half carries him to bed, collapsing on top of him.

It's only then that it occurs to him that he smells like the fencing competition. He goes still, and pushes himself up, off Enjolras.

"Grantaire?"

"I haven't showered," Grantaire explains. "I'm all sweaty and—"

"Yeah." Enjolras sits up, wrapping his arms around Grantaire's shoulders, and _breathes him in_ , sighing softly. "I know."

"You—" Grantaire keeps his voice neutral, his expression blank, the way he's learned to whenever he discovers another one of Enjolras' kinks. It wouldn't do to have a repeat of when he'd realised Enjolras likes being marked, and Enjolras had been self-conscious for days. "You like that?"

" _Yes_. Sometimes when you come home from the gym too, or when you're back from a run. You smell like _you_ only sharper. You smell like exertion, like hard work… you smell the way you do after sex, only without the sex." Enjolras licks his lips. "But we can fix that."

Enjolras presses himself close and breathes deeply, and it shouldn't be half as hot as it is. Grantaire doesn't anticipate his next words, which steal his breath like a punch to the gut.

"I was hoping you'd come home like this. I showered before you were due back. So I'd be nice and clean for you. I want you to get me sweaty and dirty, Grantaire. I want it more than anything."

"Fuck," Grantaire grunts. "Wouldn't want to let you down now, would we?"

Enjolras smiles at him, and it grows wider when Grantaire pushes him down onto his back. 

He's been looking forward to this the entire way home, but he's also spent the past several hours at a _fencing competition_ , and Grantaire's worried that he isn't going to have the energy for this. He might joke about it, but disappointing Enjolras is the very last thing he wants to do.

Luckily for him, Enjolras seems to understand this without the need for words. His smile softens and he props himself up on his elbows, pressing a light kiss to Grantaire's lips, his neck, his shoulder. "I have an idea. Come here."

He moves Grantaire so that he's sitting back against the wall by the bed, getting off the bed for a moment before returning with lube. Grantaire raises an eyebrow at the lack of condom. They've both gotten themselves tested and while they're exclusive, Enjolras usually prefers using a condom anyway, just to make things a little cleaner. 

"I meant it when I said I want you to get me dirty," Enjolras murmurs, squirting some lube onto his palm and pushing a finger into himself. It slides in without resistance and it takes Grantaire a moment to gather his thoughts enough to string a coherent sentence together.

"When you said you took a shower before…"

"I may have gotten a little impatient," Enjolras admits, looking completely unrepentant. "But I wanted to come on your cock."

With a soft moan, Grantaire takes the bottle of lube, slicking his fingers and pulling Enjolras closer. He slides a finger in beside Enjolras' and curls it slightly, earning a ragged gasp. He adds another finger and Enjolras takes his own out, his hand resting on Grantaire's shoulder. Grantaire loves the easy slide of his fingers and judging from the way Enjolras is rocking his hips, he does too. 

"Come on," Enjolras gasps, his lubed fingers curling around Grantaire's cock, stroking. "I need this in me."

"Yeah," Grantaire murmurs, resting on hand on Enjolras' hip, guiding him down. 

Enjolras sinks onto Grantaire's cock little by little, until it's completely inside of him. Grantaire buries his face into Enjolras' neck, biting his lip as he waits for Enjolras to move first. He doesn't need to wait for very long, because Enjolras knows exactly what he wants. He rides Grantaire's cock with a lot more patience than Grantaire thinks he would ever be capable of. Enjolras goes slowly, his hips tilted just right so that each time he comes down and Grantaire thrusts up to meet him, Grantaire is deep inside him.

"Thought about this while you were away," Enjolras whispers, wrapping his arms around Grantaire's shoulders. "About you filling me up, about you fucking me until I smelled of you, until I could still feel you in me after you were done."

Grantaire's hips stutter, and he holds Enjolras as he shifts their position, so that Enjolras is on his back and Grantaire is kneeling between his legs. He starts thrusting harder, all exhaustion forgotten when he's making Enjolras whimper so beautifully. 

"Is this what you wanted?" he pants into Enjolras' ear, kissing whatever skin he can reach. "Me on top of you like this? Fucking you into the mattress?"

Enjolras' loud moan is answer enough and Grantaire laughs breathlessly, picking up his pace until the bed is shaking beneath them and Enjolras is clawing at the sheets, back bowed in a beautiful arc that Grantaire wants to try and paint. 

"You don't even need my hand on your cock to make you come, do you?" Grantaire murmurs, and Enjolras moans as if to prove his point, coming hard in streaks that cover his chest and Grantaire's hand. " _Fuck_ , just look at you."

Grantaire is close himself but instead of coming in Enjolras, he pulls out and jerks himself to completion, coming all over Enjolras' stomach.

He collapses on top of Enjolras with a low groan, and Enjolras' arms wind around him immediately, holding him close. Enjolras takes another deep breath, humming contentedly. Grantaire smiles, pressing a sleepy kiss to Enjolras' forehead, making a cursory attempt to wipe himself clean with the towel that Enjolras passes him from the nightstand before putting his head down.

With Enjolras pressed against him, Grantaire has no intention of going anywhere. They should probably shower at the very least, but with the way that Enjolras has his nose pressed to Grantaire's skin and a light smile curving his lips, Grantaire doubts that it's going to be very much of an issue for a while.


End file.
